


Too Good to be True

by ant5b



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adoption, Gosalyn is present but she be sleeping, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mallard-McQuack family hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ant5b/pseuds/ant5b
Summary: Drake can't handle painkillers of any kind. When he got his wisdom teeth removed, Launchpad and Gosalyn ended up in the Pancake House parking lot at 2 a.m. with him singing show tunes on the hood of the car.





	Too Good to be True

Drake had such a high tolerance for pain and visited the hospital so rarely anyway that he hardly ever required strong painkillers. Which was a good thing because he always had terrible reactions to them. 

When he fractured his cheekbone he ended up reciting all of his lines from _Darkwing: First Darkness_ in his apartment, stage directions included, and it was all Launchpad could do to keep him from leaping off the balcony to face Megavolt. 

When he got his wisdom teeth removed Launchpad and Gosalyn ended up in the Pancake House parking lot at 2 a.m. with him on the hood of the car singing show tunes. 

When the day came that they had to bring Drake in for appendicitis, Launchpad just hoped that they could get him out of the hospital before he announced that he was Darkwing Duck to half the orderlies and the entire waiting room, like he tried to do when he broke his ribs three months ago. 

The procedure went well, and within a handful of hours Launchpad found himself back in the hospital room with Gosalyn beside him, waiting for Drake to wake up. Gosalyn napped on and off in between trips to the vending machine, wherein she bought all the junk food Drake usually barred her from. Launchpad didn’t have the heart to say no to her, knowing how nervous it made her when Drake had to go to the hospital, even for something relatively minor. 

It was early evening by the time Drake began to stir. 

Gosalyn was asleep, slumped against Launchpad’s side as he scrolled through his Wingstagram. Dewey had posted pictures from the family’s recent trip to the center of the Earth and Gizmoduck was trending again for saving a capsized ferry. 

The blankets shifted as Drake squirmed in the way of the drugged and half-asleep, and Launchpad looked up from his phone with a relieved sigh. He’d never let Drake or Gosalyn know, but these hospital visits played havoc with his nerves too. Drake could be coming in for a stubbed toe and he would still worry. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Launchpad said quietly, laying his hand over Drake’s on the blankets. “Welcome back. How do you feel?”

“Ngk,” Drake said. His eyes were clenched shut but as Launchpad rubbed his thumb over his knuckles they opened piecemeal. His expression was dazed, brow furrowed in annoyance or exhaustion, or both, and his pupils were blown wide. He watched Launchpad vacantly for a few long seconds, which Launchpad had come to expect. 

With one hand, Launchpad reached for the water pitcher on the table beside the bed and poured a cup of water. He stuck a straw in it just for good measure. 

“Here, DW,” he said, pressing the plastic cup into Drake’s hand. “You should try to drink some water.”

Drake’s gaze trailed down from Launchpad’s face down to the cup in his hand, and for a moment he looked surprised to see it. He lifted his head slightly and took a few sips before looking back at Launchpad. His eyes were as wide as his pupils now. 

“Who are you?” Drake mumbled, “Do you work here? I didn’t realize they hired such muscley nurses now.”

Launchpad snorted, raising his hand to his beak to muffle the rest of his laughter. Drake probably wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at when he was high out of his mind. 

“No, I don’t work here,” he said. “Try to drink some more water, okay?”

Drake didn’t even seem aware of the water cup anymore, as he waved the hand holding it Launchpad’s general direction. 

“You’re, like, very pretty,” he slurred, “did you know that? I’m sure you know that. You’re like the most prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”

Launchpad steadied Drake’s swaying hand before he could spill any of the water. 

“Thanks, DW,” he replied, his bill trembling with the force of restraining his grin. He had half a mind to wake Gosalyn up so she could film this, no matter how much Drake would hate it. 

“Are you single?” Drake asked, blinking up at him. 

“No,” Launchpad said, but Drake hardly had a moment to start looking crestfallen before he continued, “We’re married. I’m your husband.”

Drake gaped at him. “You’re my _husband?”_

“You betcha,” Launchpad answered, taking the cup of water out of Drake’s hand and replacing it with his own. He didn’t try hiding his grin now. 

Tears filled Drake’s eyes as he looked from Launchpad’s face to their clasped hands and back again. 

“I have a husband?” he murmured. “I always…I thought I was gonna die alone. They said you can’t like boys now, Drakey, boys only marry girls. But I didn’t want to marry girls…”

Launchpad’s eyes burned and the warmth in his chest blazed hot enough to burn him from the inside out. He wrapped both of his hands around Drake’s, squeezing tightly. 

“You married me,” Launchpad assured him, and he turned his hand enough for Drake to see the ring on his finger. “You see this? Gosalyn helped you pick it out.”

“Gos’lyn?” Drake repeated in confusion. 

Launchpad leaned back so that Gosalyn’s slight frame wouldn’t blocked from view by his bulk. 

“Gosalyn McQuack,” he said fondness welling up to choke him. “Our daughter.”

The tears in Drake’s eyes began to fall as took in the sight of the sleeping ten-year-old. 

“I have a daughter?” he asked so, _so _quietly, his voice wavering. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Launchpad murmured, smoothing a hand through Drake’s messy bedhead. “She’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too,” Drake said, blinking slowly. It seemed the painkillers were dragging him back under, judging by how his eyes remained closed longer and longer each time he blinked. 

Launchpad leaned forward to briefly kiss Drake’s forehead. 

“You can go back to sleep, DW,” he said softly, “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Drake mumbled. 

Launchpad squeezed Drake’s hand tightly, his heart in his throat. 

“Yeah,” he said shakily, “Yeah, sweetheart. I promise.” 


End file.
